


Unexpected (Revised, Rewritten)

by midnightwaterlily33



Category: Free!
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Healing, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, M/M, Multi, Nightmares, Non-Graphic Rape/Non-Con, Panic Attacks, Police Officer Yamazaki Sousuke, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Rape Aftermath, Rape Recovery, Recovery, Romance, SOUSUKE ISNT THE ONE WHO HURTS HARU OKAY, Slow Build, he helps him, i've just seen too many fics where sousuke hurts him
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-14
Updated: 2017-05-28
Packaged: 2018-06-02 04:34:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,013
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6551185
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/midnightwaterlily33/pseuds/midnightwaterlily33
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The cop inside of him wants to say the hell with Nanase’s personal desires. But the part of him who remembers…  The one who remembers being a teen and swimming in school with this man at his feet—this suppose-to-be cocky, emotionless, quirky guy; who’s now shattered into pieces on the ground—wants to just give a breaking man what he wants.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Unexpected (Old Version)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/2660309) by [midnightwaterlily33](https://archiveofourown.org/users/midnightwaterlily33/pseuds/midnightwaterlily33). 



> Hey there, hello. Surprise--I haven't disappeared off the face of the earth. I've just been hella stressed, sick, and unhappy, and haven't written anything in ages. And then the idea came to me, to rework this fic. 
> 
> For those who haven't read "Unexpected,"--and for those who have--which I updated back in January, this is a rewritten, reworked, version of that story. I changed some elements and changed the story around because I went back and looked at the old story and realized I hated it. It seemed inauthentic, insensitive to the topic, and also had pretty major plot holes. So I've written this, which, for all intents and purposes is going to replace my story, "Unexpected." I WILL be continuing this story, here with this version, and essentially will be abandoning the old version. So if you want to continue reading, check back here, not on the old one. I'll update the old one to direct readers here too. 
> 
> For any who wonder, this story is essentially the same as the old version. Same sort of scenario, but it's been edited, changed to present tense, and some of the minor details have been changed to the logistics of the events make more sense overall. 
> 
> Okay, sorry for the lengthy author's note. I hope this makes sense! 
> 
> +++++
> 
> Warnings: Contains Rape/Non-con elements (not a lot of explicit details), lots of swearing (cuz it's Sousuke haha)

Sousuke’s dead tired. Physical therapy all morning. Work all afternoon, without as much as a lunch break because he had to run errands. And now he’s on his way over to the convenience store because as soon as he got home he had the saddening realization that he has absolutely no food in his apartment.

His feet feel like dead weight, and even though it’s nice night outside he’s in a hurry. The block’s dim and quiet, surprisingly. He’ll be back home and resting on his couch in five minutes, he promises his aching body.

The glowing sign of the store is visible just at the end of the block, and he picks up his pace a bit as he passes by the alleyway between two apartment buildings because who knows what sketchy shit’s back there.

But a sound from within said alleyway makes him freeze.

A soft, high pitched whine—a dog? A hurt dog? Sousuke panics at that thought until the sound is cut off by a few very human coughs and a sob from someplace under the shadows. 

Sousuke freezes in place, turning his head. There are some scuffling sounds, but nothing in sight; too dark. And then soft sobs resonate from someplace under the shadows, steady now, punctuated by low whines of pain and some incoherent words.

It’s silent for a beat. He clenches a fist at his side and tells himself it’s probably nothing. His clenched hands tremble. The soft whimpers echo off the walls, clearly muffled by hands, and there’s some more scuffling.

Holy shit.

If his feet felt heavy before, they suddenly feel like lead because his mind jumps to the worst case scenario immediately He doesn’t want to believe this is happening. He doesn’t want to find out this is exactly what he thinks it is, and every part of him wants to take off running in the opposite direction. But he knows he can’t.

The cop in him would never forgive him. Without a second thought, Sousuke’s bolting down the alley.

He sprints until there’s a sliver of light resonating down from an unexpected apartment owner’s window, and he follows piles of damp clothing scattered about, while grappling for his gun at his hip, only to find his holster empty. His heart lurches. How could he be so fucking stupid? He curses himself, then digs into his shirt pocket and pulls out the badge instead, holding it in front of him, hoping the display of authority will be enough.

 

 

He’s ready to have to do some physical combat as he stumbles further, destined for the sphere of yellow light at the end of the street, the crying getting louder with each step.

He stops when he realizes he hasn’t stumbled into a crime—well, at least it’s already happened and he’s too late—but the only thing he finds is one lone man, lying haphazardly across the asphalt, half undressed and sobbing.  

Blue eyes are looking up at him from the concrete, and Sousuke feels his heart stop at the sight of Nanase Haruka down on the ground, shaking and gasping for air in a puddle of muddy water.

Sousuke freezes. What the fuck happened?!

He opens his mouth to say something, in complete and total shock. “Hey,” he begins, startling the raven-haired man into flinching away as Sousuke sinks down into a crouch beside him, deciding he’s officially on the job here. “Did something happen?”

He watched Nanase’s mouth fall open, and the close, again and again and he looks like a fish, struggling to breathe. Or… maybe he really is struggling to breathe…?

Sousuke brings out the badge, holding it level with Nanase’s stare. “I’m a cop, okay?” he clarifies. “You don’t look so hot. I’m here to help.”

Nanase doesn’t answer him, which is red flag number one. He shifts on the ground, pulling his legs close to his body, pulled against his chest in a fetal position, and he closes his eyes tight.

Sousuke quickly surveys him like he would any crime scene, taking in evidence. It doesn’t take much for Sousuke to put the pieces together, and he suddenly feels like he could vomit. Nanase isn’t wearing any pants. His shirt’s torn up, stained with blood, muddy water, and what Sousuke knows is probably cum. There’s a growing patch of blood staining his boxers that are pulled halfway off his body. His pants and one of his shoes are nowhere to be seen. He knows his jacket is somewhere down the alley where he entered, in a puddle. The small man is caked in grime and splotches of blood and cum, on his face, down his legs, and in his hair.

He has to choke back another sudden urge to vomit. He’s never been on a scene like this. He was crossing his fingers he’d never need to and the sudden cruelty of it all hits him with full force.

“Nanase,” Sousuke tries again, choking back everything so that his words come out clearly, steadily. It’s the default “victim voice.” Gentle, stable, reassuring. It’s all an act, but no one needs to know that.

He wants to ask him… he needs to clarify what he’s dealing with here. But Nanase won’t even open his eyes. He just lies there, trembling.

He needs to call for backup, he realizes. He gets his phone… and of _course._ He’s left it at home too.

Shit. He hates himself. Oh god, he’s really fucked up now. He’s royally fucked himself over. And Nanase too. Oh _God,_ Nanase… He’s just been… He can’t even think of the word without having to choke down rising vomit.

 He mentally smacks himself, shaking himself back into work mode.  

Sousuke switches himself into full work mode. He chokes back any emotions that rise to the surface and forces his brain to shift gears. Focus only on the tasks at hand. It’s just a job, get it done. He reminds himself he’s been to murder scenes, he’s chased down gunmen, he’s wrestled criminals to the ground. He can still figure this out. It’s his job to help people, first and foremost. He should help Nanase get up, get him stable, and then get to a phone and call for backup and and ambulance.

Getting sent to a scene like this was bound to happen eventually, he remembers being told.

The sound of said man’s soft moan of pain snaps Sousuke’s attention back to the situation at hand, and, swallowing his anger self loathing, he makes the decision to focus on what’s in front of him.

Which is Haruka Nanase, lying out on the ground, making no effort to try and pull himself up. He’s curled into the fetal position there in the dirt, shaking violently.

There was a time in the distant past when Sousuke wanted to see Nanase Haruka hurt, but not like this. Good fucking god, never like this.

Of course Sousuke has to do something. But where to even start?

Sousuke swallows hard and calls out, “Nanase. Hey, Nanase.”

Nanase flinches at the words, not looking up at the teal-haired man. He coughs and rolls onto his side with his face toward the asphalt and he coughs until he spits vomit up onto his lap.

Sousuke panics. He has no idea what’s supposed to happen, but he moves on instinct. “Do you know where your pants are?” He asks, figuring it best to get down to business.

The smaller man doesn’t speak, doesn’t even move as he stares down at the ground and the pitiful mess he’s sitting in, but he slowly shakes his head.

So first thing Sousuke sets out to do is find Nanase’s pants, hoping he’ll have a phone in his pocket, and then he can deal with all of this more properly.

Spending a few minutes scouring the repulsive alley, Sousuke finds Nanase’s jeans in a heap about ten feet from where the swimmer still sits, trembling and occasionally making stifled sounds Sousuke’s pretty sure are sobs.

Sousuke returns and crouches down beside Haru, who flinches away, eyes shut in terror.

“I’m not going to hurt you,” Sousuke tells him in the “victim voice.” Keep it gentle, keep your head clear, he reminds himself. “I found your pants. You want try getting up?”

Nanase makes no move to get up, or even open his eyes. Sighing, Sousuke leans down and gently wraps his arms around Nanase’s broken body and hoists him into a more stable sitting position, which proves extremely painful for the raven. He yelps in pain, and then, as if only suddenly realizing there’s someone touching him, he jerks away from Sousuke’s grip, with a terrified squeak. He scampers away from Sousuke quickly, backing into the wall, and pulling his knees up to his chest again, despite how it causes him wince. He eyes Sousuke fearfully, with this expression Sousuke has never seen—on anyone. Terrified, hysterical, and confused. A lot like a scared, injured animal that’s been backed into a corner.

Sousuke finds himself at a total loss. They talked about this in training. They talked about battered, scared victims and how to make them trust you. But Sousuke feels frazzled and he can’t even comprehend making any of that work right now. What the hell is he supposed to do?  

Oh yeah, he needs to call for help. Damn it, of course. God, what an idiot; he should’ve done so as soon as he got the pants.

Nanase’s jeans are still near his feet, and he searches the pockets, finding a cell phone. “Nanase,” he says softly. “I’m calling for more emergency services.”

Now Nanase makes a sound that’s a genuine squeak, as Sousuke flips open his blue phone. He looks to the raven haired man to see him shaking his head frantically.

“What do you mean, ‘no’? You need medical attention and I need backup.”

“No, no, no. N-no more c-cops, _please._ No paramedics.” God, Haruka’s voice shakes and breaks so much the words are hardly audible. It’s so incredibly unlike his stupid monotonous tone he usually keeps, and it makes Sousuke’s chest hurt for some reason. Seeing Nanase Haruka like this… He thinks he still might puke too.

“This is part of the procedure to keep you safe,” Sousuke says. “This is serious and I just want to…”

“PLEASE!” Nanase screams then, making Sousuke jump. The man’s biting at his lip, sawing it back and forth to try and keep from crying. “Please,” he chokes out. “J-just please leave it. I just want to _go home_.”

Sousuke freezes, staring down at the man before him as he shakes. He sees his blue eyes swimming and the way he’s clenched his fists at his sides to keep everything at bay. He’s quivering, he’s breathing heavily like he can’t seem to get enough air. And his voice seemed so very desperate when he begged Sousuke because he just wants to go home. Sousuke…

The cop inside of him wants to say the hell with Nanase’s personal desires. But the part of him who remembers…  The one who remembers being a teen and swimming in school with this man at his feet—this suppose-to-be cocky, emotionless, quirky guy; who’s now shattered into pieces on the ground—wants to just give a breaking man what he wants.

He doesn’t know how much more he could possibly fuck this all up than he already has. He’s probably putting his job in jeopardy one too many times here…

“Okay.” Something makes him say it. “Okay fine. I won’t call anyone. But you can’t… You can’t just leave this alone. We need to take care of it.”

It. He isn’t even sure what he’s referring to exactly. It feels vile and cruel to say any of the details out loud.

Nanase doesn’t say anything after that. In fact, now he’s squeezed his eyes shut, leaning heavily on the bricks as he chews his lip so hard it’s beginning to bruise and bleed around the edges.

Sousuke gives him a minute to wrestle through whatever emotions he’s trying desperately to push back, and opens up Nanase’s phone once more.

He scrolls down the contact list until he finds it, and frantically types out a text message to Makoto Tachibana.

_Can you come over tonight? I really need you._

He mashes the send button, feeling guilty for it as soon as he does. But even if Sousuke can somehow drag the shorter swimmer out of this alley, he definitely is _not_ the one to help the black haired male deal with all this. He doesn’t think he’s capable of comforting a broken Haruka Nanase, nor is he the support Nanase needs.

Of course Tachibana, ever faithful and a total worrier, replies at light speed, and Sousuke thanks the gods the guy’s such a dork.

_Haru? There’s something wrong, isn’t there? I’ll walk to the station right now._

Sousuke basically lies, denying any information, and hopes it sounds enough like something Nanase would say. He doesn’t want to freak Tachibana out, nor does he want Haru to notice he just did this, because inevitably, he’d probably try to stop it, opting to be alone because, though he doesn’t know Nanase that well, he knows that much. Plus, one doesn’t exactly tell someone about their best friend’s rape in a text message.

_It’s a long story. I’ll tell you when you get here. Thanks, Makoto._

After that, Sousuke puts the phone back into his own pocket, since it’ll likely be safer there, and picks up Nanase’s discarded jeans. He approaches Haru again, who still sits there, slumped against the wall, now stark still rather than shaking, and he drops the pants beside him. “Whenever you’re ready, you should get dressed. I… I’ll help you if you need it.” Sousuke tries hard to not feel awkward at the thought, because it’s a realistic possibility he’ll need it, and will probably feel equally as uncomfortable for Nanase. If not more at this point.

He guesses Haruka will decide when he’s ready and there isn’t much else he can do about it. So Sousuke paces away slowly and sinks down into a crouch along the opposite wall from the upset raven and waits quietly. He checks Nanase’s phone to make sure Tachibana isn’t panicking and bombarding it with texts. He glances out into the thankfully empty street and watches a distant streetlight flicker for a bit, and then he hears movement.

Nanase’s shifting around slowly, wiping his eyes haphazardly and reaching around to pull his boxers up. The action makes him wince in pain and Sousuke quickly looks away. He turns back when the smaller man seems to be steeling himself to attempt to stand up. He tries, but after multiple attempts only end in cries of agony after falling back down onto his already hurt ass, it’s apparent Nanase’s too weak right now.  

Sousuke moves toward him slowly, murmuring softly, “Can I help you? I don’t want to pressure you, but you look like you need help. I can help you, if that’s okay with you.” He takes care to keep on the good cop mask. Calm, supportive, certain. 

He receives the slightest of nods out of Nanase. Sousuke bends down to pull him up slowly from underneath his arms, struggling a little before finally settling the man on his feet and he whimpers in pain. He falls, only to have Sousuke catch him and brace him against his chest to keep him on his feet.  

“Okay… I’m sorry, I know you might not want to be touched,” Sousuke whispers. “But we have to keep you up. Okay?” Nanase nods, albeit reluctantly, and then Sousuke realizes also. “I’m going to have to help you put your pants back on. Is that okay?”

Haru, already leaning heavily onto Sousuke’s chest, surprises the hell out of the taller brunette by turning his head and pressing his face into Sousuke’s sweater, either out of fear, embarrassment, or the sheer fact that he’s hurting badly, Sousuke isn’t sure. Feeling shocked, Sousuke freezes up, and then sighs in relief when he feels Nanase’s nod against his chest.

He pulls out his keys—thankful for once he has the silly multi-tool keychain—and uses the shitty little knife to cut off a strip of the fabric off the bottom of his t-shirt. He takes it into his hands and holds it up to Nanase’s eye level. “We should try to clean off your face a little bit too.”

“I… I have a bottle of water in my bag,” Haruka says so softly Sousuke can barely hear it, but he does, and he didn’t even know Nanase had any other belongings with him. Nanase points halfheartedly before he can ask, and Sousuke nods. He shifts and carefully leans Nanase back against the wall, makes sure he can hold himself there for a moment, and then dashes to get Nanase’s backpack from where it lays, spilled open and forgotten.

He makes quick work of using the damp piece of his shirt to scrub at the smears and dirt on Nanase’s face. He tries to be as light with his touch as possible. Nanase’s cheeks are too warm and his eyes are consistently on the brink of spilling over with tears. He very awkwardly wipes the vomit residue from Nanase’s knees and lower thighs and tries not to cringe. Sousuke tries to clean off the grime and blood until the average passerby would think he just had a bad day, slipped into a mud puddle, and cried a little. Or so he hopes. It’s not perfect, but it’ll do.

“Alright, now, here.” Sousuke holds Haruka’s jeans ready for the small swimmer pressed against him. “Just start with your left foot. Lean on me.”

Once his feet are properly in, Sousuke leaves Nanase to pull his jeans up and on by himself, which he manages to do with the taller man there to use as support. But as Haruka attempts to fasten the button, his hands are shaking so violently he can’t even come close to getting it correctly. 

“Haruka,” Sousuke whispers, and is immediately taken aback by his flippant use of Nanase’s first name. Reminding himself he’s technically on the job, he lets it slide. “Can I help you?”

Haru buries his face further into Sousuke’s chest, whimpering a little, but he nods, and that’s all Sousuke needs. And he gently reaches to swiftly fasten the button and pull up the zipper.

“There,” Sousuke whispers, attempting to console Nanase’s anxiety, as being touched so close to… that part of his body again has started up the trembling of his frame once more. Sousuke grapples with what to do next, and ends up just murmuring, “All set. It’s okay.”

Nanase lifts his head from where he’d buried it in the Samezuka swimmer’s sweater. He makes to pull away, but quickly realizes he needs the support to stay standing.

“How much pain are you in?” Sousuke asks. The only response he receives was a deep grimace. Sousuke quickly discards that question, kicking himself for being careless, knowing he’s likely in a lot of pain on all different levels. So he says, “Are you still bleeding?”

Nanase shrugs at that.

“Do you need to go to a hospital?” And before the blue eyed man can open his mouth he adds, “If I had it my way I’d take you there right this second, but I’m going to let you decide what you need. And please don’t lie.”

Bloodshot blue eyes drift up to connect with Sousuke’s teal green, and Haru grimaces again under the threat of tears. He chokes, “No hospital please. I…I j-j-just want t-to go h-home.”

Sousuke sighs, feeling reluctant, knowing he has a one-way ticket to his termination if anyone at work finds out about this decision, but he just doesn’t feel like making Nanase do anything else he doesn’t want to. “Alright.”

Nanase surprises Sousuke yet again then, suddenly reaching up and grabbing onto the front of Sousuke’s sweater. And Sousuke, on instinct, shrugs it off and wraps it around the short raven-haired man. If he’s going to take the man home, that means walking and getting on the train, and he can’t bring Nanase into a public space covered in blood and semen.  Seeming to get the idea, Haruka silently leans back so Sousuke can zip up the sweater to effectively cover his tattered shirt and the bruises and marks on his arms. It’s a very good thing Sousuke’s clothes are bigger than Nanase’s.

He pulls away slowly and Nanase’s eyes fall to his feet. He speaks so softly Sousuke could hardly hear him, “Ya-yama…zaki, I…” Nanase has to stop and a couple broken hiccups come out instead of words, a sound that makes Sousuke feel horrible at his very core.

Sousuke guesses where the shorter male is going with this, and cuts him off softly. “You don’t need to say anything. I just want to help.” He takes a chance and puts a hand on Haruka’s shoulder, rubbing gently. “We’ll get you home now, yeah?”

Haruka looks relieved—or, as relieved as one can look after being traumatized—and he whispers a soft, “Th-thanks, Yamazaki.”

“…Sure thing, Nanase.” 

Neither of them say anything for a few moments after that, as both men sort of mentally prepare themselves for the journey back. Sousuke packs up Haruka’s backpack and puts it on his own shoulders before touching Haruka’s gently. “We can start heading home. But I’m going to have to help you walk, and I’m going to need to put my arms around you. Is that alright?”

Haruka nods, looking afraid.

“I won’t hurt you. I promise. If anything hurts, or I do anything wrong, let me know.” Sousuke looks to Nanase with the softest expression he can manage, and the Iwatobi swimmer peers back up at him with guarded blue eyes, and a moment passes. Sousuke pulls the sleeve of his shirt over his hand and awkwardly wipes away a wanton tear that’s trickled down Haruka’s flushed cheek and, throwing away any care, he wipes underneath the short male’s runny nose too. “Okay, let’s go.”

It’s an interesting ordeal figuring out how to walk. Haruka can hardly carry his own weight. He limps and stumbles, leaning heavily on Sousuke. Sousuke keeps his arm wrapped securely around Nanase’s waist, surprised that the smaller swimmer allows it. It certainly makes things easier, and really, to Sousuke, Haruka is surprisingly light—even if he wasn’t using his left arm to hold him up.

Sousuke feels truly anxious as they go because every so often, Nanase makes little sounds of pain. But slowly, keeping to the deserted sides of the street, they make it to the train station with ten minutes to spare before the train back to Haruka’s place. Now that Sousuke gets a chance to start thinking about it, he’s curious as to why Haruka was on the other side of town in the evening in the first place, but of course he isn’t going to ask now.

The two of them are alone on the platform and Sousuke suggests they sit down, but Haruka admits that it would hurt him too much, and Sousuke feels his chest tighten, nausea rolling through him once more. So they stand, Haruka trying to look casual as he leans on Sousuke for all of the strength he’s worth. Some other people begin trickling into the station, then more and more.

Haruka starts fidgeting, extremely uncomfortable, feeling self-conscious about how torn up he looks, mixed with a nagging fear that something, anything bad was going to happen. Sousuke feels it when Haru starts to tremble again beside him and he sees the worry creasing his brows.

Sousuke looks sideways at the black-haired man, taking in his wide, frightened eyes and the intense blush staining his cheeks. Nanase was looking all around, seeming panicky as he looked over his shoulders, back and forth, at all the people shuffling about around them. A stray tear streaks down his reddening cheek.

“Hey,” Sousuke leans over and whispers gently into Haru’s ear. “Hey, it’s okay. No one’s looking at you,” he half-lies, because damn it, they are. Those fucking idiots. “It’s okay.”

Haruka only starts shaking harder, even as he looks down at the ground. Sousuke panics, contemplating how to help.

And so slowly, ever so carefully, so that Haruka has the chance to stop it at any point he wants to, Sousuke puts both arms around Haru’s small body. He turns the sapphire eyed male so that he’s facing Sousuke’s chest and pulls him in loosely, gently hugging him, his arms and body giving a shield from the eyes of strangers around them. He hopes it offers some sense of safety, at least. He expects Haruka to freak out and pull away again, but he actually buries his face in the front of Sousuke’s chest again, as if hiding.

“No one is looking at you, okay?” Sousuke lies. “You’re fine. You’re safe.”

They stay like that for a while, and it takes Sousuke all of his self-control to choke it back and not to flip off all the idiotic people that do look at them strangely. He doesn’t tell Haruka that anyone is taking any notice. The train comes, and Haru doesn’t try to remove himself from his spot curled into Sousuke’s chest, and Sousuke is okay with it. He lets Haru stay where he feels hidden and at least some semblance of safe, and drags them toward the doors, carless of how he nearly carries Haruka and the smaller male doesn’t raise his head for a single second, too scared to see.

The inside of the train is extremely crowded. Even though Haru isn’t looking, Sousuke knows he can tell. They shift and stumble around for a spot where the two can stand semi-comfortably, but it just isn’t happening. Haru tenses up with every brush of another person around them, every voice that gets a little too close to his ears.

He pulls Haru with him, and they manage to get out of the crowd a little, only to have Haru jump with a whimper when they bump into a tall man in a suit.  

His cry of distress draws the attention of people, who turn to stare at the two men curiously, and Haruka starts panicking.

“Shh,” Sousuke tries to soothe, seeing nothing else to do. “Just try to relax. It’s only a short ride,” Sousuke murmured, rubbing his hand up and down Haruka’s back in hope of comforting him a bit. He lets Nanase bury his face into the front of his shirt once again and then Sousuke starts taking exaggerated deep breaths, coaxing the black haired man to follow along.

That seems to make Nanase fall silent once more, and so Sousuke keeps doing it as they stand and wait. He starts idly stroking a hand along the small male’s spine, ignoring the stares of people once more.

When the train stops at the Iwatobi station, Sousuke nearly carries Haruka out the doors, and once they’re on the empty platform, the pair sits on a bench for a few minutes. Haru starts to calm down gradually, enough that Sousuke felt okay to ask,

“Are you ready to go home?” Haruka nods.

The pair stands once again, resuming their walking strategy from earlier, and slowly hobbling toward Haru’s house. Sousuke’s sure they’re both incredibly tired. Haruka’s probably more exhausted than he is.

However, there’s one obstacle that no one considered, and Sousuke sighs and Haru finds it in himself to blush when the two males freeze at the bottom of the staircase leading up to Haruka’s house. With Haru barely even walking, there’s no way he’s going to be able to climb stairs.

“Haruka,” Sousuke exhales slowly and looks to the freestyle swimmer carefully. “I… I can carry you up the stairs. If you’ll let me.” Sousuke really, really hopes he wasn’t lying in saying that. He should be able to support Haruka up the stairs, right? Haruka’s like… at least 4 inches shorter than he is, and so thin it’s a little concerning.

Haruka trembles so hard that Sousuke can see it as well as he feels it. He’s scared, Sousuke assumes, but of what, exactly, he doesn’t know. And he won’t ask. Maybe he’s afraid of feeling helpless and vulnerable again. Trusting someone else to pick him up like a child, during which they could whisk him down the stairs and kill him if they wanted, or carry him away to relive this evening again.

Sousuke really hopes Haruka realizes Sousuke isn’t just _someone_. Sousuke is… well, he isn’t Haruka’s friend exactly, but he _used to be._ And just now, Sousuke saved Haruka, whether Haruka likes it or not, and he’s done a lot of really uncharacteristically caring things. Hopefully it’s enough that Haruka will trust him for another five minutes.

“Okay,” Haru whispers, voice raspy, and Sousuke almost smiles. He isn’t really sure why, because Haru looks petrified and this is anything but a joyous moment.

“Alright, here we go,” Sousuke sighs, and he wraps one arm around Haruka’s waist, and the other under his knees, the easiest way he can think to carry the Iwatobi swimmer.

And Haru turns his head and cuddles into Sousuke’s sweater.

Sousuke doesn’t put Haruka down until they’re at Haru’s door, and still Nanase has to lean on Sousuke as he unlocks the door. When the two step inside, the lights are on already, and a voice shocks them both. Though, in Haruka’s case, he jumps nearly a foot in the air and latches onto Sousuke with a terrified yelp.

“Haru? Is that you?” a gentle voice calls, and then Tachibana appears like magic from the kitchen doorway, but he stops short at the sight of Sousuke and his best friend.

“Ma…Makoto…?” Haru utters in complete surprise, jaw going completely slack, eyes glazing over.

Makoto’s gentle smile disappears quickly, overtaken with a frown like the world was coming to an end. “Haru… Oh, Haru, what happened?”

Haruka detaches himself from Sousuke. Makoto rushes forward to catch the small swimmer as he stumbles to him, and Makoto cradles him in his arms, immediately beginning to shush him as Haru starts crying outright.

Sousuke stands behind in the doorway, uncertain and unsettled. Tachibana’s stroking Haruka’s hair softly, with a touch that looks incredibly loving, and Sousuke catches his eye over Haruka’s shoulder.

“Thank you, Yamazaki,” the tall green-eyed man mouths and Sousuke supposes that’s about all he needs as a farewell. He nods in affirmation, leaves Haruka’s phone on a nearby bookcase, and turns to let himself out.

Even through the door he pulls shut, he can hear it when Haruka dissolves into loud, violent, sobs.

Sousuke swallows hard, contemplating the emotions that are swirling around in his chest, feeling confused and sick. He doesn’t reach any resolve before feeling like he’s been lingering too long on Nanase’s porch. He heads down the stairs, in search of a train ticket and a convenience store.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The reality of everything that happened starts to take a toll.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey... I'm not quite sure how to introduce this right now when it's been like, 400 days. So, uh, hi. Funny story, once again, I am not dead. Also, surprise, I am still writing this fic, even now that it's completely irrelevant and likely forgotten. 
> 
> To be completely honest, I don't really have anything to say for myself. I've just been... it's been a hell of a year. I randomly got the inspiration to update this just now, sitting in a coffee shop with a friend. So yeah. I'll spare you the long author's note this go around, if anyone's even reading this anymore. If you are, again, I'm really, really sorry about this mess of a story. I'll try not to neglect my fics for years again. Idk, this is awkward and I'm sorry. 
> 
> +++++++++
> 
> Small note: I know next to nothing about how being a cop works, so I'm sorry for inaccuracies. Do cops even get raises, idk!??? I also definitely used Daichi (yeah, like from Haikyuu) as a side character because I'm uncreative with names. He probably won't come into play again anyway. 
> 
> Warnings: No real warnings this chapter. This is just Sousuke angst-ing mostly. Vague mentions of what happened in Ch. 1.

He spends nearly an hour, hunched over his bathroom sink, scrubbing his hands and the stain on his jeans—Haruka’s blood—and trying not to throw up. No matter how hard he tries, the stain won’t come out, and something about that makes Sousuke’s chest burn with a searing pressure.

He stops when his hands are cracked and bleeding, and then falls to his knees in front of the toilet and loses the battle with his stomach at last, retching up what little is in his stomach.

He came home—about two hours ago; it was half past midnight—after getting Haruka back to his place, and just sank down onto the floor, feeling petrified and exhausted. He lie there for what felt like was an hour, but it was probably only twenty minutes, before the overwhelming filthy feeling started to bother him. He felt like his hands were stained with the grime, with _Haruka’s blood._ Which, they weren’t, but his jeans were. That realization sent him running for the sink to scrub it away.

God, he fucked up _so bad_ with Haruka back there. He… he _blatantly ignored_ the protocols and failed to take a bleeding rape victim to the hospital. He didn’t get a police report. He didn’t call for backup. He didn’t even leave Haruka with instructions on how to come back and file a report, didn’t give him any instructions on resources or what to do next.

He was a pathetic excuse for a cop. He didn’t protect anyone.

He didn’t even ask Haruka what happened. Who did it. Why. When. Nothing. He was too fucking focused on getting him home and getting his battered body out of Sousuke’s sight.

Sousuke leans back against the bathtub and flushes the toilet, letting his head fall back to look up at the ceiling. His head hurts; feels like it’s full of water, sloshing around and making him dizzy. There’s a tight, pressured pain creeping up his throat, and he almost reaches up to clutch at his neck in alarm, before he feels wetness trailing down his cheeks and he remembers that this is what it feels like to cry.

He hasn’t cried in a long time. A very, very long time.

He isn’t even sure why it’s happening, but he doesn’t have any more energy left to try to stop the flow of tears from his eyes, and so he sits back, pressing his body against the cold of the bathtub and waits for it to stop.

Afterward, all he does is stand, wipe his face with toilet paper, and he strips off his clothes as he walks toward his room. He peels back the covers and crawls in, pulling the blankets up and over his head, until there’s nothing but total darkness. Sleep never comes to him until the sun is up, but he doesn’t move an inch.

 

* * *

 

His partner, Daichi’s voice pulls Sousuke out of an almost-slumber for the fourth time that day. He turns to Sousuke, who’s leaning on the steering wheel of their squad car with his head down, and says, “You’ve been kinda out of it today, you know that?”

Sousuke’s eyes flutter and it takes effort to keep the lids open. “Hmm. Have I?”

“Yeah,” Daichi says with a nod and a long gulp of coffee. “Been staring off into space all day. Is something wrong?”

Sousuke gives a noncommittal grunt, and lies.  “Mm, not particularly. I guess I just didn’t sleep well last night.”

“…You sure?”

“Um. Yeah…?” Sousuke brushes him off with a smirk that he hopes is convincing.

“You’ve gone fifty hours without sleep before and even then you still weren’t this bad.”

“It was just-”

The words are interrupted by the shrill ringing of Daichi’s phone, and Sousuke stops, immediately starting up the car, ready to dispatch to wherever this emergency is. But when he hears Daichi speaking into it, it doesn’t sound like a dispatch call at all.

“Yes, sir, we’ll head out now. Thank you.” He puts his phone back into his pocket, eyeing Sousuke sideways. “The chief wants us back at the station. Said he wants to talk to you.”

Sousuke’s heart lurches. He thinks, _Shit, this is it. This is really it._ This is the moment he’s going to get in insurmountable trouble for how disgustingly unprofessional and unethical he was when he found Nanase. Someone must have found out about it—or hell, maybe Nanase even reported him. Or _Tachibana._ Yeah, that would make sense. But there’s no denying it. He can’t justify it even a little bit. He blatantly ignored his obligations as an officer and as a fucking decent human being, to call for an ambulance, to take Haruka to a hospital, to call for backup.

He really, really fucked up, and everything is his fault. He’s going to get fired. Not only that, but there will be a news story about him, the corrupt cop story of the year. Fuck, he can probably go to jail for failing to report a violent crime.

He deserves every bit of it.

“You know,” Daichi’s voice suddenly scares the life out of him, calling his brain back down to earth, and the car’s rolling to a stop. “You’re really making me worry.”

“‘M fine,” Sousuke chokes out, and climbs roughly out of the car.

* * *

 

“All of this taken into consideration, Mr. Yamazaki, we’ve decided all of your hard work for the department should constitute a pay raise.”

Those words come from the mouth of the chief of police, coupled with a genuine _smile_ and a hand, extended for a congratulatory shake.

The guilt is a fire exploding up his throat in that moment.

The first words he can think of tumble out of his mouth, and they are,

“I quit.”

“And—” the chief stops short, eyes going wide. “Come again, Yamazaki?”

“I… I’m so very sorry. Thank you for your generosity, and for everything, but I quit.”

Sousuke knows he’s a buff, six-foot-tall man, but in this moment he is terrified of the man in front of him and everything around him. Those words leave his mouth, a bitter feeling on his tongue in their wake, and Sousuke turns around and bolts.

He runs from the office, with the chief screaming after him, first in concern, and then in fury, and Sousuke wonders if he’s about to get arrested or even shot at for trying to make off with a gun and badge. He stops for a split second in front of one of his colleagues, seated at their desk, and he hears them asking him things in a panicked voice. He takes just two seconds and tosses his gun down on the desktop, tears off his badge, and throws it.

It’s long enough for the chief to catch up with him and grab him by the shoulder—his bad shoulder. Sousuke rips himself out of the grip, and feels something rip in his shoulder in return.

White hot pain erupts across his shoulder blades, enough to make his hand come up to hold it in a death grip, but it doesn’t stop him from running. He runs out of the office, down the steps, right past Daichi and the squad car, across the street, and on board the first train he sees at the station.

He falls into a seat at the back of the car as it takes off in the opposite direction of his apartment.

He ducks his head forward, puts it between his knees and gulps down deep breaths, coaching himself in his head like he’s done with countless people at crime scenes before.

When he lifts his head, several people are staring at him. A little girl hides behind her mother’s leg, who shuffles them to get a little father away from him. People are looking him up and down because, even without his badge on and the gun at his hip, he’s still wearing the holster on his belt, he’s still dressed in the blue uniform.

The glares are enough to drive him off the train at the next stop, where he tears his shirt open, popping the buttons, and turns it inside-out before shoving his arms back in the sleeves. His shoulder throbs with an incredible ache when he moves it, but his ears are ringing, his mind is racing, and he’s shaking with adrenaline, so he manages to keep himself from crumbling.

He walks too fast away from the station, carefully pushing past people on the sidewalks, walking aimlessly until he finds a department store. When he walks in, the cashier at the front of the store gives him the customary, “Good afternoon, office…officer…?” And he falters in the middle of the sentence when he obviously takes notice of the missing badge, the torn up shirt, and the empty holster. Then he asks shakily, “Is everything alright?”

“Fine. Just here for shopping,” Sousuke manages through his teeth and makes a beeline for the clothing.

Hurriedly, he buys a plain white t-shirt and a tube of muscle relaxer cream from the slightly shaky teenager at the checkout and races out of the store, more stares in his wake. He walks across the street, into a coffee shop, and buys a small coffee just so he can get their bathroom door code. He abandons the cup on an empty table.

In the bathroom, he pulls off the navy blue uniform shirt and dispenses nearly half the tube of muscle cream messily onto his shoulder. He sits down on the closed toilet lid with his face in his hands and waits for it to dull the pain. Once he feels like he can kind of breathe again, he pulls the white tee over his head and stashes his belt, holster, and shirt in the plastic department store bag, tying it up like it’s his lunch.

He takes a look at himself in the dingy bathroom mirror and has to restrain himself to keep from smashing it in with his fist. He looks sickly, what with the sweat beading and trickling down his face, the dark circles around bloodshot eyes, and the tremble in his hands and body that he can’t seem to quell. But importantly, he _doesn’t_ look like a cop anymore. He looks like kind of like a businessman who had a really terrible day and so he trashed his suit on his way to lunch. That’s a story he can play off.

He leaves the coffee shop and starts walking, opposite of the way he came. His hands are quivering; his heart is hammering so violently he can hear it in his ears and feel it in his head. His shoulder is searing with an awful, burning pain. But he can put one foot on front of the other, and so that’s all he does until, hopefully, he can bring himself back together.

**Author's Note:**

> I plan to continue this story, further even, from where the old version ended. Hopefully more will come soon!  
> Feedback is appreciated, as always.


End file.
